graveyard
by Jon Bishop
i’ve walked through
the cemeteries. it’s
interesting to meander
through the curvaceous
and sinewy street-like
walkways and see all
the names of those
who came before us.
the wind will blow and the
birds will caress your ears
with song. the wispy grass
seems to stand at attention
in order to offer protection
to the dead.
as i recall, i usually stop.
tall trees loom overhead
like guardians to the gate.
the old adage of momento
mori seems appropriate.
yet as i consider that
i remember
to look beyond.
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